Audition
by Megalomaniac2
Summary: Years before Hellsing's story begins, Luke and Jan Valentine must prove themselves to Millennium in order to be chosen as their top assassins. It's a difficult task, even without the Iscariots and Wild Geese getting involved...
1. Desecration

"Hellsing has other enemies besides vampires and ghouls," Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing said as she paced before the assembled Wild Geese. The mercenaries had recently received their rude initiation into the world of the supernatural, courtesy of Seras and Alucard. Integra was now providing the soldiers with a crash course in the dangers they were likely to face, in what little time was available before Captain Bernadotte and the vampires departed for Brazil. "You may encounter other beasts of legend such as werewolves. Ordinary humans - those who have been brainwashed, coerced, or tempted into serving monsters - they too could be among your foes."

She took a moment to light a cigar, pleased to see that the normally rowdy mercenaries were watching with rapt attention. _Beneath their rough and undisciplined exteriors, they really are top-notch soldiers,_ she mused. _Walter chose well._ "You should also be aware that we are not the only monster slayers in this world. Your missions may bring you into contact and possibly conflict with the Catholic Church, particularly Vatican Section 13: the Iscariot Organization!" Integra clicked a remote, and a photograph of a hulking, scarred man dressed as a priest was projected on to the screen behind her. "This is their top agent, Paladin Alexander-"

"-Anderson!" Pip interrupted as cries of surprise and recognition ran through the ranks of his men. "Hey, it's zat crazy bayonet guy!" He was echoed by the rest of the Geese:

"Oh yeah! The Priest!"

"Bayonet guy!"

"Holy crap, I still have nightmares…"

"Remember how that one chick had a samurai sword?"

"Psycho priest! The guy with the crazy nun pals!"

"A-_hem_." The mercenaries immediately fell silent upon seeing the look in Sir Integra's eyes.

"Captain Bernadotte." Integra addressed Pip with uncomfortable calm. "I was under the distinct impression that you and your men had no previous experience with the world of the supernatural."

"Well… yeah." Pip adjusted his hat. "You don't have to be a vampire to be a knife-crazy priest though, right? We thought that's just what he and the others were. Hell, we thought they hunted terrorists and drug dealers!" He paused. "Wait, is he a vampire?"

"No." Puff. Puff. "Perhaps you should explain, Captain." Integra's tone made it clear that the 'perhaps' in that sentence was not very 'perhaps' at all.

"Okay, sure!" Pip loved war stories, and this was a great one. "It all started in Brazil, a few years ago…"

The story that came out of his mouth was the wrong one. Pip Bernadotte was wrong about many things in his life. He had clearly been very wrong about this job being mundane and cushy. He was wrong about thinking himself an amoral, dishonourable mercenary. He had been very memorably wrong (although no one in the Wild Geese would ever, ever mention it if they knew what was good for them) about the number of bullets left in a particular assault rifle in Thailand. He was wrong about having no prior experience with the supernatural- although to be fair, his memories had been altered at the end of it. And for the same reason, he was wrong about the story starting in Brazil.

It started, in fact, in Ireland.

* * *

The church was ancient, secluded, silent and peaceful, a small outpost of sacred contemplation in the Irish countryside. At least it was usually silent and peaceful. Jan Valentine had a talent for removing the sacredness from any situation.

"Listen, bro, it's all fucking bullshit," he said. He was talking a mile a minute as he and his brother Luke strode towards the church under a crescent moon. "Like, I knew this one bitch once, right? She swore up and down that Jesus was real because she'd once seen a statue of Mary bleed or some shit. I tell her 'fuck, bitch, Mary was probably just on her period, it doesn't have anything to do with her son!' She didn't listen, though. Fucking bitch. Gave amazing head, though!" Jan broke off suddenly, blinking. Mentions of sex had a very reliable way of sending his train of thought off the tracks and hurtling towards the nearest cliff. "Anyway, what was I talking about?"

"You were babbling like an idiot and making us both look like fools," Luke said dryly, cigarette hanging from his lips as they neared the door of the church. "Try to keep it under control for once, will you? This is an important test. _They_ are watching closely, and somehow I doubt that they're going to be impressed with your antics."

"Aw, c'mon Luke, stop being such a fucking brown-noser." Jan rolled his eyes. "Don't worry about it! This fucking job's beneath us. If there's one thing on this planet I fucking know how to do, it's fucking bitches. But if there's _two,_ it's fucking bitches along with eliminating and desecrating!"

"That's three things," Luke muttered to himself. But he did have to admit that his younger brother had a remarkable talent for defiling just about anything on the face of the Earth.

"Whatever. Let's get this massacre started!" And with that Jan kicked in the heavy wooden door of the church.

There were only two people inside; a shy-looking nun with glasses reading a Bible in the pews near the front, and someone in priestly robes near her, back turned as he lit a row of candles before a statue of Saint George. The nun looked up in surprise as the door crashed open. "Ah… hello?"

"Heeeyyyy there, sister," Jan leered as he advanced on her, hands in his pockets. "Wassup? Me and my brother were just in the neighbourhood and saw this fine church you got here, and we thought 'hey, since our souls are in such bad shape maybe a visit would get us in good with Jesus.' Whaddaya think, sister?"

The nun sighed, took off her glasses, folded them, and put them in a pocket before lifting up something beside her. "I fear your soul may be beyond even our Lord and Savior's mercy."

"Huh?" Jan cocked his head. "Hey, what you got there? Is that- is that a fucking _sword?_ The fuck's a nun going around with a sword for?"

"For _smiting heathen vampire filth like you_, monster!" Yumie screamed as she whipped her katana from its sheath, slashing and slicing with furious speed. Vampire reflexes only barely saved Jan from dismemberment. He yelped and fell backwards, bleeding from the chest.

"Wh- what the _fuck!_"

"Hm." Luke frowned, drew a silver pistol from inside his white coat, and aimed at the nun's head. Before he could fire, the sound of safeties clicking off prompted him to turn and see the priest aiming twin handguns at him. Luke backflipped high into the air as he (she?) fired, bullets splintering the pews he'd been standing in front of moments ago. Landing lightly on his feet, he dashed behind a pillar before Heinkel could fire again.

Still on the floor, Jan quickly rolled away from Yumie as she brought her sword down to decapitate him. The katana bit into the stone floor of the church instead of Jan's neck, and he sprang to his feet and kicked her in the gut with enough force to bring the Vatican's elite berserker to her knees.

"Fucking bitch," he yelled. "You fucked up my clothes and shit! That actually hurt!" He drew his own pistol, a black one. "You got any idea what I'm gonna do to your corpse once I kill you?" He would have said more, but then Heinkel shot him in the back, sending him back to the floor.

"You talk a lot, don't you?" Heinkel noted coolly, pistols aimed at his prone body.

"You have no idea," Luke sighed, popping out from the ancient, elegantly-carved pillar to fire at Heinkel, who dove for cover behind the church's pulpit as Luke's bullets smashed the candles and statues Heinkel had been tending to. "Jan, these Vatican assassins were waiting for us. This job's over. Let's go."

"What, are you crazy bro?" Jan laughed as he hauled his bleeding but rapidly healing body onto a pew with one hand, still clutching his gun in the other. "These assholes are fun! Let's stick around and play for a while. I'm sure as hell not running away from any Catholic dipshits."

"There's no escape, vampire bastards!" Yumie yelled as she got back to her feet. "You'll both burn in hell for daring to defile a house of God!"

"Suit yourself, then," Luke said to Jan, ignoring Yumie as he dashed for the Church door, Heinkel's pistols blasting a trail of bullet holes into the wall behind him, trying to nail the sprinting vampire. Luke was at the threshold in seconds, felt the cool night air on his skin-

Suddenly, Luke's vision disappeared as he was enveloped in a roaring windstorm of paper, paper fluttering all around him and blowing into the church, paper that felt vaguely uncomfortable against his skin. He snatched away the page covering his glasses and looked at it. It was a page from the Bible. Luke was able to read 'Your hand will find out all your enemies; your right hand will find out those who hate you. You will make them as a blazing oven when you appear. The LORD will swallow them up in his wrath; and fire will consume them,' before the wind tore it away from him.

Raising up his eyes, Luke saw that his escape route was now blocked. A hulking shape now stood in the doorway, grinning widely, the glasses on its face and the cross on its neck shining with moonlight.

"Behold, I have created the smith that bloweth the coals in the fire, and bringeth forth an instrument for his work, and I have created the killer to destroy," Alexander Anderson said. He advanced on Luke, paper swirling around his feet. "No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that resisteth thee in judgment, thou shalt condemn. This is the inheritance of the servants of the LORD, and their justice with me! So saith the LORD!" Gleaming bayonets slid out of his sleeves and into his hands. He raised them over his head as Luke began to quiver in terror before one of the greatest vampire hunters in the world. "AMEN!"

"Luke, move your fucking ass!" Jan yelled. He shot Anderson in the forehead. The priest's head snapped back and he toppled to the floor, allowing Luke a moment to regain his senses and bolt away from the door. Heinkel opened up on Jan, but he rolled off the pew and crawled out of sight as bullets slammed into the wood.

"_Now_ are you ready to leave?" Luke said as he ran. Yumie dashed to intercept him, sword aimed at his neck, but Luke simply jumped over her, tossing in a needless but stylish somersault before he hit the floor running.

"Fuck yes, let's get outta here!" Jan leapt up and ran to join his brother, both of them shooting at Heinkel to make the Iscariot gunslinger duck behind the pulpit again. Yumie and Anderson's blades were right behind them.

"It's useless to run, you miserable filth," Anderson snarled, back on his feet as Jan's bullet was slowly squeezed out of his skull. "Just try to meet your fate with whatever dignity your kind can muster!"

"Yeah, fuck you too asshole!" Jan yelled over his shoulder. "We out, bitches!" The Valentine brothers leapt straight through the beautiful stained-glass windows of the church, shattering the antique craftsmanship into hundreds of pieces as they flew through the air and touched down on the grass behind the church.

"Sacrilegious bastards!" Yumie swore as the vampires sprinted away, too fast for any human to run down, Heinkel's bullets kicking up dirt at their heels.

"I said it was useless to run, and I meant it," Anderson said, an especially long bayonet sliding out of his sleeve. "Now perish in hellfire, and go to your eternal torment, you vile monsters!" He hurled the blade with perfect accuracy and incredible speed at the back of Luke's head.

The bayonet whined through the air as it flew to its target, then stopped dead in the air. Luke plucked it out of its flight without even turning his head. He stopped running for a moment to turn and smirk at the Catholics, holding the blade by its handle. "Another time, Section 13," he said before sending the bayonet sailing back into the church with a casual flick of his arm.

Anderson's eyes widened as his bayonet _thunked_ into the wood of the pulpit, and the explosives in the hilt began to glow. "Move!" He roared, grabbing Heinkel and Yumie by their clothes and hurling them both out of the broken windows before leaping himself. Behind him, the bayonet detonated spectacularly, the shockwave boosting the three Iscariots through the air as well as shattering every remaining window in the church, fire and shrapnel devastating the building's interior.

The Iscariots landed heavily together on the grass. Jan's laughter drifted back to them as the Valentines made good their escape. Heinkel got up and sighed, gazing inside the ruined church. "We blew up the place we were supposed to protect." Heinkel lit a cigarette. "The Chief's going to be upset."

"H-hey!" Yumie yelled. "That was the vampires! We can't be blamed for this! It was all them!"

"Quiet, both of you." Frowning, Anderson climbed back into the church through the window, shattered glass crunching beneath his feet. He'd noticed something.

"You two weren't planning on recording this, were you?" He asked. He was looking upward at a small glass gleam on one of the ceiling beams, staring at the small video camera peering down at him.

"Of course not." Heinkel glared at it. "Someone was watching us. That camera had to have been planted before we took our positions, too. Someone knew what was going to happen here." Heinkel breathed in deeply, blew out smoke. "It was probably whoever sent those vampires to desecrate this holy place."

"Is that so." Anderson advanced towards the camera, scowling, ignoring the smoke still drifting through the church. "Well in that case I hope that they are still watching. So that they can know that we the Iscariots will hunt them and their wicked spawn to the very ends of the Earth, to visit divine punishment on them for this blasphemy." He pointed a bayonet at the camera and roared out. "Do you hear me? You Heretics?"

The camera's only response was to explode in a contemptuous puff of smoke. Anderson sneered. "So be it, then. Come on, you two. Let's report to Maxwell."

* * *

The Major laughed long and hard as the picture from the camera winked out of existence. "Oh, my! He's certainly a spirited one, isn't he? Truly worthy of the title 'Executioner Anderson!' His laugh trailed off into a disturbed, high-pitched snicker. "What a splendidly terrifying declaration. And what do we think of our prospective operatives, my friends?"

Millennium's top officers were gathered in the film theatre of their secret base, Jaburo. Ordinarily this room was used for screening war movies (and almost only war movies) for the Last Battalion. Now it was serving another purpose: viewing the footage of the church fight for the evaluation of Luke and Jan Valentine, to see whether they were worthy of being used in a more important capacity than the average FREAK Millennium produced.

"What a silly pair of amateurs," Rip van Winkle scoffed, sitting with her long legs crossed, musket on her shoulder. "They're not even worthy to shine our boots. I don't think we should have anything to do with such trash."

"I'm with the Lieutenant on this one," Schrodinger said. For reasons known only to feline logic, he was sitting in the aisle instead of a chair. "We can't have riff-raff like that in the ranks. I really don't know what you and Dok were thinking, mein Major."

"Watch your tongue, Warrant Officer!" Dok snapped from his seat to the Major's left. "Mein Major, I have put some of my finest techniques into transforming these imbeciles into top-notch assassins. They had an impressive record as hitmen even when they were human, despite their… obvious deficiencies. I stand by my research!"

"As do I." Tubalcain Alhambra was the picture of relaxation, slouched in his seat with his hands behind his head, hat pulled down low so that the only part of his face showing was his confident smile. Looking at him, one might never have guessed that his position within Millennium could very well be riding on the Valentines' acceptance. "Trust me, Major. I recruited the Valentine brothers into our ranks personally, after the most careful scrutiny. I have watched over them like a mother hen and groomed them for this next stage. I give you my word that they are the ones we seek."

"We just need them to kill a shitload of people and then die," Zorin Blitz noted, standing with her scythe across her shoulders. "They fit the bill for that well enough."

"Mm-hmmmmmm. Interesting, interesting. And what do you think, Captain?" The Major asked.

The Captain was looming in the aisle behind Schrodinger. He stood motionless for a few moments, staring at the blank screen, before giving a small, short nod.

"Very well then!" The Major smiled and clasped his hands in front of him. "This is what we shall do..."


	2. Welcome to Jaburo

Fifteen. Hours.

Fifteen _long _hours.

That was the duration of the Valentine Brothers' flight from Dublin to Rio de Janeiro. Luke possessed an lot of pride in his capacity for being calm, controlled and cool in almost any situation. Journeys such as these were why he felt his arrogance was entirely justified. Anyone who could make it through sitting in an airplane next to Jan for fifteen hours, listening to him wolf-whistling at stewardesses and loudly complaining that the in-flight movie wasn't porno, and not experience a mental break in the process was fully justified in having a very high opinion of himself.

Had he been religious instead of an undead walking affront to all things divine, Luke would have praised God aloud for deliverance as he and Jan finally disembarked the airplane. Jan felt it necessary to bid farewell to the stewardess by the door with "later, bitch!"

There was a man waiting for them outside, holding a large white sign reading "Valentines" in bold black letters above his wide-brimmed brown hat. With his smug smile, dangling cigarette and atmosphere of total ease, it was hard to mistake Tubalcain Alhambra.

"Ah, the Valentine Brothers!" He said, advancing to meet them, tucking the sign under his arm. "Welcome once again to my country. It is my pleasure to be your most humble host, my friends. I hope your flight was a pleasant one?"

"Mister Alhambra. It's a pleasure as always." Not to be out-polited, Luke gave a small bow. "The flight was… long. But it couldn't be helped. Thank you so much for coming to meet us."

"It is nothing, Mister Valentine, nothing at all. Can I offer you a cigarette?"

"I'd be much obliged." Behind Luke, Jan sighed loudly and rolled his eyes, hands in his pockets. The interplay between his brother and Tubalcain Alhambra never failed to grate on his nerves. Between their mutual focus on style and their shared propensity for flashy suits and oozing arrogance, Luke and Alhambra were two of a kind - creatures of much ambition and little remorse who made their way daintily and gracefully through life, smiling at their victims on the way to their respective prizes.

With this much in common, it was no surprise that the two had struck up a sort of sociopathic friendship in the time since the Dandy Man had first recruited the Valentines and introduced them to the life of the vampire. It was a companionship based more on shared interests and character traits than anything resembling actual affection or, heavens forbid, loyalty. The two simply recognized and, to a degree, respected one another as kindred spirits, none of which sat well with Jan at all. For all of what Jan considered to be his brother's many, many flaws (hair like a girl's, couldn't appreciate cigars, too much of a wuss to get piercings, always bitching about professionalism and shit), Luke was still Jan's _bro_, the one person in the world he could claim to be totally tight with, which meant this chummy bullshit with Dandy really got on his nerves.

"Yo, can we skip this shit and just fucking go?" He demanded as Luke and Alhambra continued their gentlemanly back-and-forth. "I'm fucking sick of planes. I wanna get outta here!"

"Be patient, Jan." Luke didn't even turn to look at him. "I have a few questions for our host before we set off. Mister Alhambra, you said over the phone that we had to come here because we'd been selected for a 'great opportunity', but you wouldn't say anything more than that. Now that we're here, may we know the reason for your invitation?"

Alhambra spread his hands, smiling. "All in good time, my friend. You shall learn everything once we arrive at our destination." The smile broadened, revealing gleaming teeth. "You and your brother now stand at the entrance to the cavern of wonders!"

"Not the kingdom of immortality?" Luke asked dryly, breathing smoke out of his nose. "We already have you to thank for arranging our passage into that land."

"Ah-ah-ah!" The Dandy waved a finger. "Such things are not to be spoken of in public. As your host I can guarantee your safety for as long as you are in my country, but there is still no reason to take unnecessary chances. Please, follow me to my car. We have a lengthy drive ahead of us, but all will be revealed at the end."

Alhambra's car was what one would expect of the Dandy; a flashy, fast convertible as comfortable as it was high-class, naturally being driven with the top up for the sake of its vampire passengers. None of this kept the lengthy car ride from being interminable for Luke as he sat in the front, the car speeding down a seemingly endless series of obscure dirt roads, taking turn after turn as it travelled deeper and deeper into the forest.

Sprawled over the back seat, Jan was bored. And when he was bored, he talked. A lot. Ordinarily, denying him an audience was the best way of reducing if not eliminating whatever spewed from his mouth. That was how the brothers had made it through their flight without the plane being turned around. It was also why Luke remained fixated on a newspaper he had finished reading long ago even while Jan continued recounting the famous and storied epic of That One Hooker.

Unfortunately, Tubalcain Alhambra's determination to play the part of the perfect host for the Valentines kept Jan's anecdote from being ignored as it deserved. He was actually engaging as he drove or at least doing an excellent impression of it, even as Jan's mouth plunged further and further into the depths of vileness. "So this bitch had, like, a tumor or something just sticking out of her ass, it was like some kind of fucking _growth_, right? And it's just jutting out of her ass like a mountain or some shit! It was so sick! And that's not even the freakiest thing!"

"Oh really now?" Alhambra asked, ignorant of his peril. "Please, continue."

Luke knew that he had to interrupt for the sake of everyone in the car and human civilization at large. "Mister Alhambra, my brother and I were actually hoping you could settle something for us," he said, not looking up from his paper. "Are you by any chance familiar with the Vatican operative Heinkel Wolfe?"

"I know of him by reputation," the Dandy said. "You had some trouble with him and his partner recently, did you not?"

"Ha!" Jan immediately abandoned his tale to crow. "See? Did I call that shit or what? I told you that gunslinging motherfucker was a dude, bro!"

Luke gritted his teeth and folded his paper. "I still think she had to have been a woman," he said. "You didn't even get that good a look at her face; you were too busy getting shot in the back. I'm the one who actually exchanged rounds with her."

"Yeah, whatever you say Luke, the Dandy backs me up. Right buddy?"

"Well, I have never met him or her in person- ah, but we have arrived!" The effect was uncanny. One moment the car was driving along a vanishingly narrow dirt road suffocating in the foliage that surrounded it, the next it was emerging into a clearing containing what could only be a military base of impressive proportions. Luke didn't get a good look at the layout. His attention was fully occupied by the absurdly large aircraft hangar the Dandy was driving towards.

"What is this place?" He asked, his composure slipping slightly.

Alhambra parked the car, hopped out, and opened the doors for both his passengers, bowing. "It is the place at the end of the rainbow, my friends. Welcome to Jaburo- the Panther's Den."

* * *

Heinkel and Yumiko were sitting in chairs by the door to the office of Enrico Maxwell, deep within a section of the Vatican never to be seen by tourists. Right now they resembled bloodthirsty assassins less than they did students outside the principal's office. They were waiting for Father Anderson, who had walked in alone and without fear like Daniel in the lion's den, so that Yumiko and Heinkel would be spared. Yelling could be heard within. "They've been in there a while," Heinkel noted. Yumiko just nodded, looking downcast at the prospect of Father Anderson being reprimanded on their account.

Finally, the door opened and Anderson emerged, frowning. They both got to their feet. "Father?"

"I have good news and bad news," the priest said, his head low. "The good news is that Maxwell understands perfectly well that crusaders like us have a duty to destroy in order to save. Our sacred battle is never won without a price."

"In this case, the church," Heinkel said. "What's the bad news?"

"The bad news is that in this case, the cost for that price is going to be coming out of our paychecks for the next several months."

Heinkel's jaw dropped. "What? Our paychecks? He can't do that! That's-"

"He's your superior and mine, and he has every right to do it," Anderson said. "Through our failure a Catholic church was desecrated and two vicious monsters remain free to prey on the innocent. The suffering of every one of their victims from now on is upon our heads." The priest gritted his teeth. "From this point forth, our top priority is to make amends. We must wash away our shame in the blood of those foul vampires!"

"How are we going to do that Father?" Yumiko asked. "We don't know where to find them."

"Aye, not yet. But we have a lead." Anderson's glasses gleamed. "Our intelligence operatives have been hard at work. Those two monsters have left Ireland and are believed to be somewhere in South America."

He turned away from them and began to walk. His two students immediately followed. "Pack your things. We leave for Brazil tomorrow. And we will scour that entire continent until we have reduced the two of them to nothing but ash and dust. Understood?"

Heinkel and Yumiko nodded and spoke in unison. "Amen!"


	3. First Impressions

Luke looked around at the immense facility around him, trying to conceal his amazement. He had always known that the organization behind the transformation of him and his brother into vampires had extraordinary resources, but a base of this size existing in secrecy in the middle of Brazil seemed impossible. "Very impressive, Mister Alhambra," he said. "How on Earth did your people manage to-"

"Ah-ah-ah." Tubalcain grinned and waved a finger. "That is not for me to explain, my friend. Your true hosts await you in the main hangar. They will make everything clear to the both of you in good time." Suddenly, he frowned. There was only one Valentine near his car. "Hm? Now where did your brother manage to get off too?"

Suddenly, a voice rang out from within the immense hangar in front of them. "Hey, what the fuck's up with these guys? All dressed up as Nazis and shit. And who's the fatass?"

Luke and Alhambra exchanged mutual looks of absolute horror, and then dashed for the hangar. Bursting through the same doors Jan had just wandered through, they saw that any chance of the Valentine brothers making a good first impression on their prospective employers had just been utterly smashed.

Within the hangar, swastika flags hung from the walls. An immense zeppelin loomed over Luke and the Dandy, the glimpses of a steel skeleton poking out of its skin showing that it was still under construction. What appeared to be a teenage boy in a Hitler Youth uniform was lying on top of it, hands behind his head. Luke didn't understand how the kid could possibly have gotten all the way up there, or what was wrong with the kid's ears.

Perched atop a tower of scaffolding, a small, chubby blond man in a white suit looked down at Jan with a good-natured smile on his face. On his left-hand side, another man with a lab coat and extremely strange glasses wore a furious expression, and on his right, a towering white-haired figure in a long SS greatcoat stared blankly at Jan's antics. On the ground, Jan was flanked by two sinister-looking... women? One was fingering her musket, the other a scythe, as the younger Valentine obliviously continued to run his mouth.

"Man, this is a _mind-_fuck. Hey bro!" He waved as he saw Luke enter, regardless of his brother's mortified face. "Check out these crazy fuckers! You ever seen such a buncha freaks? I mean, look at these Nazi flags, that's pretty fucked-up. You-"

"Jan. Please. Shut up." Luke said through gritted teeth. Besides him, the Dandy forced a smile, stepped forward and tipped his hat in greeting.

"Herr Major, it is my pleasure to present to you the Valentine brothers," he said to the man in white. "I apologize for Jan's... roughness. I assure you, they are far more professional when on the job."

"Wait. Wait wait wait." Jan's eyes widened, and he pointed at the Major. "You're saying this is the boss? This is who's in charge of all this shit? This is the fucking guy? You gotta be shitting me! He looks like the Pillsbury fucking Doughboy! There's no fucking way!"

There was an audible intake of breath from everyone in the room, even those who didn't need to breathe. It was matched by the sound of a musket being cocked by the woman in the suit with the improbable hair. The Major only gave an amused little giggle, raised his right hand, and crooked a finger slightly. The silent man next to him dropped off the platform in a single smooth motion and stood in front of Jan. He gazed implacably down at the vampire. Jan was unimpressed.

"And who the fuck are you supposed to be, big guy?" The Captain said nothing. "The janitor? The butler? The fucking guy in charge of feeding Tubby up there?" The Captain said nothing. "Hey, I'm talking to you, asshole! What is this, some kinda Oddjob bullshit? Or maybe you're like those palace guards they got back home." The Captain said nothing. Behind Jan, Luke covered his face with his palm and sighed. "That's it, isn't it! Hahaha, I love those guys! That means I can do whatever the fuck I want, and you just gotta stand there like a statue while I-"

It would be incorrect to say that Luke saw the Captain throw a punch. There was just the sudden impression of fast, violent movement, too swift to process, and then Jan was flying through the air, trailing a stream of blood behind him. He rocketed across the hangar and hit the metal wall hard enough to leave a dent before sliding to the ground in a bloodied heap. The crash echoed throughout the building. Luke stared, openmouthed. The Major gave a content little sigh.

"Wow, Major." Luke jumped and whirled around to see that the boy who had been on top of the airship just a second ago was suddenly directly behind him, his voice mocking and fearless. "We've got ourselves a real set of winners here! What a great choice! You sure can pick them."

The Dandy chuckled weakly and pulled at his collar with a finger. "I am sorry, my friends. We all appear to have gotten off on the wrong foot. Please, let me-"

"No, no, please don't worry, Dandy Man." It was the first time Luke had heard the Major's voice, and it immediately sent a shiver through him. It was a voice filled to the brim with joy, cruelty, and madness, a voice for whipping soldiers into a killing frenzy and for haranguing civilians into a mob. Any doubt in Luke's mind that this odd little man was the mastermind to whom he and his brother owed their immortality evaporated when he heard that voice. "I actually rather like them, despite the youngster's lack of manners. I think they have _definite_ potential."

Luke seized the opportunity to attempt to salvage the situation by bowing low. "Thank you, Major," he said, his voice as smooth and velvety as he could make it. "I'm very sorry for my brother's behaviour. I promise you, I'll make sure he acts more respectfully from now on. You won't regret giving us a chance."

"We shall see." The Major slowly began descending from the scaffolding along a stair, hands behind his back, the Doktor trailing behind him. "You'll certainly have the opportunity to prove yourselves. I am sure you have many questions about whom we are and why you have been brought here, ja? We shall discuss them soon enough. But first, hospitality! Lieutenant Blitz, show our guests to their quarters."

He reached the bottom of the stairs and turned away from them, walking towards the rear of the hangar, the Captain retaking his place at his Commander's side. "The two of you will rest from your long journey, and then we shall discuss business."

"Jawhol, Major." Blitz was a tall, frighteningly muscled woman with short blond hair, an enormous scythe and a profusion of tattoos on one side of her body. The ink seemed to swim and dance before Luke's eyes in a way that made his head hurt. She did not look too happy with the task of playing butler, but hauled Jan's limp body over her shoulder like a sack of grain nonetheless. "Follow me, and don't do anything stupid."

As Zorin and the Valentines exited the hangar, the Dandy made to hurry after the Major. The Sturmbahnfuhrer might be taking all this with a smile, but he took _everything_ with a smile. Alhambra knew that a lot of smooth talk was in order if he was going to protect his skin.

He had been Millennium's most valuable South American operative for over half a century. He had been indispensable to them, first in helping them hide without a trace in Brazil, then in aiding in the secret recruitment of candidates to be turned into vampires. Yet Dandy's position in the organization always had been and always would be precarious. No matter how well he performed, he was always an outsider to them, a brown-skinned foreigner who had not served in the same war as them, surrounded by the worst and most vicious of the Waffen-SS. Despite his honorary rank of Lieutenant, Tubalcain Alhambra had no illusions regarding the degree that his employers cared whether he lived or died.

Case in point- Rip van Winkle's musket was suddenly pressing into his skull, blocking his path to the Major. She grinned at him like a shark as she held it one-handed, her immaculate white fangs gleaming beneath the hangar lights. "You really should housetrain your pets before bringing them home to the Sturmbahnfuhrer, Dandy Man. Tell me, how does it feel to have your so-called best recruits insult the Major, annoy the Captain and get their nasty blood all over our pretty hangar, in just five minutes?"

"I..." Alhambra suddenly found himself at a loss for words with the Huntress' weapon at his head. Obersturmfuhrer van Winkle had never liked him, partly because he was a non-German and she was among Millennium's most fanatical Party adherents, partly because he had made one too many unwelcome advances towards the lovely Lieutenant over the decades. Behind him, Schrodinger snickered.

"You've really done it this time, haven't you, 'Lieutenant'," the unnatural child mocked. "I'll bet the Major's really impressed with your selection right now!"

Taking a step back, the Dandy managed to regain his smile, hand on the brim of his hat. "I have faith that my gamble will pay off, my friends. You should never count the game over until the last card has been dealt. They're going to be given their chance, and I am sure they will perform wonderfully."

"You had better hope so." Rip un-cocked her musket and started walking away, casually shouldering it. "Tinker tailor soldier sailor, my bullet punishes all without distinction- including sad little failures of agents, playing at being full Battalion members."

She left the hangar, and when Alhambra turned around he saw that Schrodinger had disappeared as well. Alone now, he sighed and considered the fact that he might have just bet his career and his life on a weak hand- specifically, a single pair.

* * *

"So what's the job, Captain? It's been a while since we were in South America." The senior officers of the Wild Geese were gathered around a table in the headquarters they'd procured, having just gotten off the plane to Brazil two hours ago. Leaning back in his chair, smoke drifting from his cigarette, Pip Bernadotte grinned.

"My god, you guys. I don't know how to put this so that you'll believe it, so I'm going to just throw it out there. We're getting paid to hunt Nazis."

"What, really?"

"You're kidding us, Captain!"

"Get outta here!"

"I swear I'm not making this up, guys!" Pip threw a file on the table and flipped the folder open. Within was a police report and the picture of a man, or what was left of him. A good amount of him seemed to be smeared in bright red swathes across the room he was lying in. "This man, Abraham Botstein, was found dead in his hotel room in Rio a while ago. The poor bastard was almost torn apart in a busy hotel, and the police have got no leads at all. But here's the interesting thing."

Pip stopped leaning back, came forward, and spoke in a low, dramatic tone. "This guy? He was an honest-to-god Nazi hunter. You know, someone who goes around trying to find war criminals from the Second World War, bastards who managed to run away from Europe with all their loot without ever paying for the shit they did. Botstein's employers think he was killed because he was on to something, but the locals aren't hearing any of it. They're trying to bury the whole thing. So that's where we come in."

"I don't know about this, Captain." One of the Corporals frowned, cigarette dangling from his lips. "We're combat guys, not spooks. We're good at front-line stuff, not playing James Bond."

One of the other Geese spoke up; Bernard, a demolitions expert who'd come to the Geese from the French Foreign Legion. "Hey, you can pass this up if you want Corporal, but I'm willing to give a James Bond job a shot if it means I get all the martinis and girls that come with it!" The mercenaries shared a chuckle.

"Don't worry, we'll get plenty of chances to get the shit shot out of us, just like we always do," Pip said. "The guys paying us have a theory. They think that whatever old Nazi bastards this guy was tracking down have a lot of connections to some powerful drug lords. That's how they were able to kill him and get away with it, and that's why we've been called in: because the Wild Geese are too tough for any two-bit drug cartel to handle. So we're going to finish Mister Botstein's job for him, and kick the hell out of whoever tries to stop us."

Pip surveyed his men, suddenly growing serious. "Now, we might be a bunch of hired killers who'll throw our lives away for a few cents, but the Wild Geese do have a shred of honour in our history. We have a long and proud tradition of taking down Nazi scumbags, going right back to my grandfather in France. I won't lie to you- the pay on this one could be better, but I think it'll be worth it to keep that tradition alive." Pip smiled again. "Besides, I've worked out a deal for us. We take these guys down, and we get to keep whatever Nazi loot they've been living off of for the last fifty years."

"Really?" Bernard said. "You mean gold and art and so on? Hell, that sure beats martinis."

* * *

"We're fucked." Luke said to himself. He slumped down atop the white coffin that had been prepared for him within the small room the Valentines would be sharing for the duration of their stay at Jaburo. "Years of preparation and effort, down the drain in five minutes because of his mouth." He glared at the black coffin where his brother was sleeping, still recovering from the Captain's blow.

"Oh, you shouldn't be so negative, Herr Valentine!" Luke twitched upright. The catboy was suddenly sitting right next to him, his bizarre ears twitching. "Look on the bright side. Sure, you and your brother are probably going to be declared failed experiments and thrown away like garbage without a second thought, but you're still getting a _fabulous_ trip to Brazil out of it!"

"Where the hell did you come from?" Luke demanded, standing up. "How did you get in?" The door had never even opened.

"Oh, me? That's simple." The catboy smiled. "I'm everywhere and nowhere."

Luke furrowed his brow. "...that doesn't make any sense."

"You are in the kingdom of madness now, Herr Valentine," the boy said. "You really ought to start getting used to things that don't make sense. This is a place where insanity rules. You should know that already! Artificial vampires don't make much sense either, after all."

"Hm." He frowned thoughtfully. "I see your point."

"Of course you do!" The boy said cheerfully. "I am Warrant Officer Schrodinger of the Last Battalion. Your host, the _glorious_ Major, has sent me to tell you that he's ready to see you now."

"Oh, good," Luke said. "So now we'll finally get some answers."

"Oh, yes. But mein Major is a very busy man, and would rather skip straight to business than spend a lot of time explaining our unit's long and exciting history to you. So I'm going to be giving you that part of the briefing right now to save time." Schrodinger stood on the coffin, clasped his hands behind his back and closed his eyes, assuming the position of a lecturing teacher. "The Millennium Organization was founded by the order of our Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler, during the Second World War. Our mission-"

"-was to create a shitload of vampires and ghouls so you wouldn't lose the war, but hey! You did anyway, so you hauled ass to Brazil and have been fucking around with secret mad scientist shit ever since. Yeah, yeah." Jan's coffin lid slowly swung open to reveal him fully healed, lying with his hands behind his head and a bored expression on his face. "We don't need a fucking history lesson kid, let's just go see the guy and get to the good stuff."

Schrodinger gawked, ears twitching with surprise. "How do you know that? That's what I was supposed to explain to you!" His voice was peevish, his chance for fun with the Valentines taken away.

"Eh, I got bored while Luke here was napping, so I went exploring. Broke into a file room, went through all your shit, did some light reading, and holy fuck! Do you know what? _I got even more bored!_ So come on, let's go find out who we gotta kill to get some fucking fun around here."

"You... broke... into our files?" Schrodinger looked to Luke, who just sighed.

"He does things like that. But at least now we don't have to listen to your briefing." Luke adjusted his spotless white coat, making sure he was presentable for the Major.

"You're lucky you got away with that, Herr Valentine!" Schrodinger said. "Dok must not have been watching your chip while you were doing it. Next time he'll probably give you a nasty jolt."

"Ah, yes, the chips." Luke frowned. It was easy to forget sometimes, that their privacy was one of the things they had traded for immortality. But the fact was always present: there was a piece of circuitry within each of them that allowed their every movement and sensation to be recorded and transmitted, as well as allowing their bodies to be instantly incinerated if they ever failed their creators. _Now that we're face-to-face with the makers of those chips, we'll have to be more mindful of what we do and who is watching,_ he thought.

"So you're an army of relics from World War Two, hm? How interesting," Luke said. "I'm looking forward to finding out what use such a group has for me and Jan." He tugged on his gloves, making sure they were on securely. "Let's go meet our new employer, then. And Jan? This time, please, please, _please_ let me do the talking."


	4. The Contest

The Captain was looming beside the doorway Schrodinger led them to. Jan waved jauntily at the man who had broken several of his bones just a couple hours ago. "Hey big guy, wassup?" The Captain just stared, and Schrodinger laughed.

"I don't think he likes you very much, Herr Valentine!" He said. "Hold still, now."

"Hold still? Why, I- hey! What the fuck!" Suddenly the Captain's hands were all over Jan, patting and prodding his body. "What is this fag shit? I don't swing that way, man!"

"He's frisking you, you idiot." Luke said. "Please, just... don't say anything until we get through this." For his part, Luke stayed still and cooperative as the Captain patted him down. The Captain nodded, satisfied, and then led them into the room, Schrodinger following.

It was a large boardroom, dominated by a long oak table with a Nazi eagle emblazoned on it. Fiery paintings and old maps hung on the walls. The Major was seated at the head of the table, sipping tea. The Doktor was by his side, and was quickly joined there by the Captain. Seated up on the Major's end was the Dandy, along with those two women from before. Luke noted that the women had their weapons with them, and that Alhambra's teeth were tighter than usual around his cigarette. Not a good sign.

Two more people were seated at the other end of the table, across from their hosts. Schrodinger indicated that the Valentines should sit with them. Luke took a seat besides a strikingly beautiful black-haired woman in a red blouse and black pants who was smoking from an ivory cigarette holder. Jan remained standing behind him, slouching against a wall and checking out the woman's ass. Luke assumed that like the Valentines, these people were Millennium's guests, most likely other vampires. On the other side of the woman sat a well-muscled middle-aged man with tanned, leathery skin, a bald head, and piercing blue eyes, dressed in khaki pants and a green vest with many pockets. His posture and eyes suggested military experience to Luke.

"Good," the Major said. "Now all are assembled, and the show can begin. It is going to be a very educational presentation! Please, let us take a moment to familiarize ourselves with one another. Myself, Dok and the Captain you all should already know. We are joined today by First Lieutenants Rip van Winkle-"

"Guten Tag." Rip cocked her head and smiled with many fangs.

"-and Zorin Blitz." Zorin just nodded, and Jan leered at her in her tight tank top and intricately inked skin.

"Yo, nice tattoos. You got a fucking Nazi parlour around here or what?" He smirked.

She smirked back. "Nice piercings. Keep your mouth shut before I give you some new ones in your asshole."

"_Jan."_ Luke spoke softly but in earnest.

The Major ignored them. "As well as Warrant Officer Schrodinger-"

"The _adorable_ Warrant Officer Schrodinger," he added, stretching catlike at the Major's feet.

"-who has already informed you of exactly who we are and what it is we do." The Major continued as though he was used to the catboy's interruptions, which he probably was. "We have escaped the annihilation of our Reich and now carry on its legacy of war and terror through the technology of immortality. It is for the purposes of furthering our plans that we have shared this technology with you and those like you. Those purposes are what have brought you here today."

"Hm. A question if I may, Major." Luke said, once the Major had paused for long enough for Luke to be sure he wasn't interrupting.

The Major waved a hand carelessly. "But of course."

"I'm sure we are all _very_ grateful for the new life you and your organization have given us, but there's something that I've always wondered about." Luke pursed his lips for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Neither my brother or I can remember a single thing about us actually _becoming_ vampires. I understand some sort of surgical procedure was involved, but everything I have in my mind after agreeing to Mister Alhambra's kind offer is a blur. I can only assume it's the same for the rest of us."

The bald man in the vest spoke up, his voice strong, precise, and extremely British. "I have always thought that was one of the results of the chips inside of us. A safeguard in case any of us were ever captured. Like the incineration mechanism."

"You are incorrect, Herr Henderson," Dok said. "I have tried my best to work a function like that into the FREAK chips, but to date it has been regrettably impossible."

"Ah, but I am glad that you asked, Herr Valentine." The Major's smile suddenly took on a cruel edge. "I intended to make a demonstration anyway, and now I have such an excellent opportunity. Lieutenant Blitz, please select one of our _cherished_ guests for use as a model."

"Jawhol, Major." Her eyes immediately fell upon Jan, and she smiled. "You. Loudmouth. Come here."

"Oh, fuck me," Jan muttered. He shuffled forward, hands in his pockets, shooting a look at Luke as he went to his fate.

Zorin's smile was full of razor teeth and pitiless mirth. "You did want a closer look at my tattoos, didn't you boy? Well, here you go!" Her inked arm shot out with crushing speed and slammed a hand into Jan's face, pressing him up against the wall, lifting his feet up off the floor, pinning him against a wall.

Incomprehensible whispering noises filled the room. The indecipherable rows of text wound about her arm started to shift and move as though they were alive. Muffled yelps came from Jan as his feet beat uselessly against the wall. The tattoos began to flow forward onto Jan's body, spreading over him like a stain. Luke clutched the armrests of his chair, gritted his teeth, and hoped that he wasn't watching his brother die.

In seconds Jan was completely covered and the room was inexplicably darker, as though Zorin's black magic was sucking the light out of the place. The Millennium members remained still and relaxed, as though they saw this every day. Perhaps they did. The hissing, whispering noises were now louder, and Jan's feet were still. Suddenly the tattoos reversed themselves, flowing back into their mistress, and light returned to the room. With a contemptuous snort, Zorin removed her hand and turned her back on Jan, who dropped limply to the ground.

Luke stood up, being careful to keep his voice sounding neutral and detached. "Jan?"

"Whoah. Maaaaaaaan, what the fuck did I just come off of?" Jan slowly got to his feet and looked around the room with an expression of intense confusion. "Where the fuck am I?" He looked at Luke. "And who the fuck are you? Why have you got your hair all done up like a girl and shit?"

Luke gaped for a moment before regaining his composure, then gritted his teeth. "You erased his memory." He turned to Zorin. "All right, you've made your point and we're all very impressed. Now fix him."

"I don't take orders from you, child." Zorin turned to the Major, who wore a content smile. He gave a slight nod.

"Hey, do any of you fuckers wanna tell me just what the _fuck_ is going on here, or do I gotta start capping some bitches?" Jan was growing frantic. "This shit isn't cool, okay! So why don't you assholes just _mmph!"_

"Oh shut up." Zorin sounded bored as her hand covered Jan's mouth. The tattoos flowed over his body once more, inundating him in shifting, unnatural text and glyphs. But when it was over, Jan was himself again. He flopped down to the floor, his eyes wide.

"Wow. That was some pretty fucked-up shit."

"Jan." Luke stood over him, frowning. "Do you know who I am?"

"Sure I do, bro." Jan grinned. "I'm fine, by the way, thanks for asking. Just, you know, had my brains eaten and shit by a tattooed Nazi bitch. Noooo problem."

"Good." Luke turned away and sat down. "And my hair does not look like a girl's."

The woman in the red blouse said something, her voice low and sultry. Luke realized with a start that she was speaking German. The Major replied in kind, and she gave an amused little snort. Luke made a mental note that it would be a good idea to pick up some of the language if he was going to be dealing with these people.

Henderson seemed unfazed by all he had just witnessed. "That's been done to all of us then, has it?"

"Ja," Zorin said, lighting a new cigarette. "And I'm going to have to do it again to whichever of you survives before you leave here. We can't have any morons like you running around blabbing. It's a real fucking chore, digging through your pathetic minds over and over."

"But necessary for security reasons," the Major said. "Each of you were identified as potential operatives and then approached, in some cases by Herr Alhambra, in other cases someone else. The offer of immortality was made and accepted. You all willingly sold your souls and your humanity for the sake of never again having to face sickness or age. You were brought here for the Doktor to carry out the procedure, after which Lieutenant Blitz purged your minds of all damaging information. And now, you are ours."

The Major raised a hand and curled it, as though he held all their lives within it. "Each of you is here because you are under consideration for performing a special mission for us in the future, something of vital importance. Your time here will be spent being trained and evaluated to determine which of you is the best suited for this vital assignment. Consider it a grand audition for a leading part in the drama we have been preparing for decades!"

"I don't suppose you'll tell us what the part is just yet," Luke said.

"Correct. No sensitive details will be revealed until the time is right." The Major's smile was twisted and cruel. "But do not worry, my friends. You will not have to wait too long in suspense! Your contest begins... _now."_

Dok pulled a remote out of his lab coat and pressed a button, and suddenly Luke's chair was tilting him forward and down the chute which had just opened up at his feet. With his reflexes it should have been easy to keep himself from falling, but of course Millennium had thought of that. The slick metal walls of the chute were coated with some slime that he could find no grip on. Luke plummeted helplessly into the darkness as Rip van Winkle's laughter echoed above him. "I hope you enjoy your new friends!"

Just as Luke was thinking that he didn't like the sound of that, he came to the end of the chute. His momentum sent him flying out of the chute and onto the filthy, blood-spattered dirt on the lowest level of Jaburo's basement. Beside him, Henderson landed in a polished combat roll and came up in a crouch. The lady was already standing off to the side, regarding the others coolly as she puffed on her cigarette holder. Jan landed on his ass.

Luke looked disdainfully at the slime on his suit. For some reason the lady was the only one of the four of them who hadn't gotten covered in the stuff coming down the chute. He then looked around at the dungeon they were in.

'Dungeon' was really the only way to describe it- the room must have been one of the very first constructed when the Nazis began building their secret base sixty years ago. It was an enormous, cold, lightless chamber of grey rough-hewn blocks that seemed to stretch without interruption all around them. Luke could see no walls, no exits, and no entrances besides the chute holes in the uncomfortably-low ceiling. If he hadn't been a vampire, he would have been blind in its blackness. As it was, his enhanced senses allowed him to make out the shapes of his compatriots... and other things. Things like the stench of death and decay that permeated the dungeon, or the many shambling footsteps getting closer to them.

"Well isn't this just fucking great!" Jan said, wiping slime off his clothes. "Bro, this is turning out to be the shittiest vacation ever."

"Shut it," Henderson snapped. "Do you hear that?"

'That' was a chorus of mingled groans and shuffling feet. Glowing, hungry eyes appeared in the darkness, approaching. Luke's cigarette dropped from his mouth. _Fifty years,_ he thought._ That's how long the Nazis have been here. And how many of those decades have they spent as vampires? How many years have they been feeding? How many years have they been storing their 'leftovers' down here? _Because of course Millennium hadn't simply disposed of the ghouls created by their feeding. It would have been a waste of potential soldiers. No, they all went down here to grow hungry and rotten and insane, waiting for the day they would be unleashed…

"This… is a cage," he said. The ghouls came into view, men and women alike, horribly decayed and emaciated, all naked, stripped of their worldly possessions before they were dumped in here. The stink of rotting flesh came ahead of them like a wave, washing over Luke's sensitive nose. _And none of us have our weapons. This is going to be terrible,_ he thought. _My clothes will get soiled._

"Lovely," said Henderson. "And just where the hell did Miss Sangfreud go?" There was no sign of the woman with the cigarette holder, and the ghouls were getting closer. Jan cracked his knuckles, anticipating a bloodbath. Luke turned about, sniffing, then pointed.

"The air's less foul in that direction," he said. "There could be an exit. Jan, lead the way."

"You got it, bro! One path of bodies, coming up!" Cackling, Jan dove headlong into the mass of ghouls. Their frail bodies came apart easily as he charged, tearing them limb from limb and tossing the pieces about like confetti. "Fuck, I take back everything I said! This vacation's gonna rock!" Grabbing one of the larger corpses, Jan pushed the man's body ahead of him like a ram, slamming ghouls out of the way and trampling them underfoot.

Henderson followed behind in a low combat stance. Every ghoul that tried to grab him found itself crippled or outright dismembered. Henderson would seize their reaching arms and either twist the ghouls to the ground, throw them over his shoulder, dislocate their shoulders with a swift tug, or deliver a brutal kick to their kneecaps that took them down. Through it all he never stopped moving and never allowed himself to be slowed down. _He's definitely military-trained,_ thought Luke. _Perhaps Special Forces?_

For Luke's part, he wanted nothing to do with tearing ghouls apart with his hands- much too messy. To him, the horde of the undead wasn't an enemy, it was an obstacle course. Luke leapt high into the air and came down one-footed on a ghoul's soft and mouldy head, which promptly crumpled under the impact. Before the creature could fall, Luke was already off to the next head. Using their skulls as stepping stones, he skipped daintily across the ocean of zombies, gracefully leaping aside whenever a grasping arm threatened to actually touch him.

"I see it!" Henderson yelled. He sprinted past Jan towards the small, ugly but entirely welcome steel trapdoor he'd spotted in the ceiling. Jumping up to grab its handle, he wrenched it down with one mighty pull. A metal ladder dropped down, and Luke wasted no time scrambling up it as the ghouls closed in around them. Henderson was right behind him. Of course, Jan had to stop to get in the last word.

"Later, motherfuckers! Peace out!" Jan flipped double birds, kicked one last ghoul in the face hard enough to turn its skull to red pulp, then jumped up the ladder with the others.

"Oh! You are alive." The Nazis were waiting for them in one of the base's sterile metal hallways. Rip van Winkle was not happy to see them. Zorin grinned as the Captain pulled up the ladder and shut the trapdoor.

"You lose, Rip. Pay up. You too, Schro." Her fellow officers groaned and handed over her winnings: ration tickets from Rip good for an extra victim, money from Schrodinger.

"Not all of us, I'm afraid," Henderson said, dusting himself off and frowning at the rotten bloodstains on his khakis. "We seem to have lost Miss- "Sangfreud walked nonchalantly past him, not a hair out of place, still smoking from her ivory holder. Henderson's mouth dropped open. "How the devil did- how could- I can't-"

"Frau Sangfreud is the winner of this round," the Doktor said, noting it down on his clipboard. "You will now return to your rooms and await further testing. Contact Warrant Officer Schrodinger if you require anything." Henderson gave a short nod, then stalked off, scowling.

"Hey, so." Jan sidled up to Zorin and leaned against a wall. "You were betting on me to _live_, huh? That's great, babe, 'preciate the support! Warms my fucking-"

Zorin suddenly slammed him up against the wall, pinning him. She lowered her head so that her face was inches away from Jan's. "Let's get something straight. I bet that not _all_ of you would _die_, you noisy insect. _This time._" She turned away, slinging her scythe across her shoulders. "By the way, Luke. If you could get yourself killed in Round Four, it would be very helpful to me."

Luke lit a cigarette, unamused. "I'll consider it. Schrodinger, I'd be grateful if you would show my brother and I to our rooms. I think we're going to need all the rest we can get."


	5. Restless Spirits

"Hey, check it out!" Jan exclaimed as the Valentines entered their room. "Room service!"

A young Asian man was lying on the table, hog-tied and gagged, wearing nothing but dirty boxers. He moaned and wriggled on the table, uselessly. His eyes were wide with panic and desperation. They looked at the brothers, pleading without words.

"Hm. Well, at least they aren't going to starve us." Luke walked past the victim, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up neatly. "I need a shower before I can even think about eating. You go ahead, Jan."

Chen didn't speak English. He had no idea where he was, who these people were, what they were saying, or why he was trussed up in front of them like a present. All he knew was that he had taken a very foolish loan from some very bad people, that he hadn't been able to repay it, that they had taken his own body for collateral, and that after a dose of chloroform and an extremely uncomfortable plane flight, he was here.

He stared at the men. The pale blond one walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him without even looking at Chen. The other one though, the one with the metal in his face, he was looking at Chen very intently.

Out of all the terrible things he had been through since his abduction, somehow the look on that man's face was the worst so far. His eyes were the most frightening thing, hungry and primal in a way that had nothing to do with humanity. And then he smiled and Chen's mind became an incoherent stream of rapid-fire terror. Why was this happening? Why him? Why couldn't he see his family? Why wasn't anyone helping him? Why were that man's teeth so large and sharp? Why was he getting on his knees next to the table and leaning towards Chen's neck and opening his mouth and-

Chen's last coherent thought was _why._ After that there was only horror.

Luke came out of the bathroom several minutes later, a white towel wrapped around his midsection, steam still drifting off his body. His relaxation immediately turned to irritation. "Jan," he said tiredly, "How many times do I have to tell you to clean up after your meals?"

His brother belched. He was sitting with his feet up on the coffee table. Red was smeared around his mouth and spattered on the floor. At Jan's feet, the corpse of their meal was beginning to twitch and groan. The twisted look of horror on its face was slowly shifting into the slack, vacant hunger of a ghoul.

"Don't worry about it bro," Jan said. "The service in this place rocks! Check it out." He sprang up and scooped up the body. He opened the door to the room and yelled out into the hall. "Yo! Trash pickup here!" Jan heaved the wretched, moaning creature outside and slammed the door before flopping back down on the chair. Outside, Luke could hear the sound of jackboots running and something being picked up before the boots and the moans receded down the hallway. Presumably their meal was going to join the rest of Millennium's leftovers.

"Isn't this the fucking best?" Jan grinned, hands behind his head, stretched out. "Next we'll find out that they're giving away free massages and shit."

"I'd be happier to find out they were going to clean up those stains for us," Luke said. His face was thoughtful as he looked at the fresh red blotches on the floor. "You have to admit, it's an impressive operation. They must have connections to every human trafficking organization in the world to feed this many vampires."

"Yeah, they probably rip off blood banks and shit too," Jan said, looking at the ceiling. His eyes turned to meet Luke's. "You think the other two fucks are getting the same treatment?"

"Sangfreud and Henderson." Luke had been thinking deeply about them in the shower. "I'm sure they're getting the same or better, Jan. We're facing some stiff competition here." He started getting dressed, wishing for a cigarette.

"You mean how that bitch got out of that fucking ghoul pit without getting her hair messed and we never even fucking saw her?" Jan asked. "Yeah, that was _fucked_. How the fuck did she even do that?"

"I don't know," Luke admitted. "She's a German too, so our hosts are bound to give her preferential treatment. It looks like Henderson has had training that we haven't, as well."

"Yeah, but we've got something they don't," Jan said. "We're a _team_, bro, and those two obviously never fucking met before. The shit we're aiming for has gotta be a two-person job, otherwise they wouldn't have brought us in here. Right?"

"I suppose." Luke frowned. He didn't voice his deepest worry: that the part they were 'auditioning' for might be a solo after all... and that only one of them would be left alive to claim it.

* * *

"Here is the room where the, ah, incident happened." The hotel manager, Ruiz, was about fifty years old, balding, and afflicted with a serious cough. He looked nervous as he shepherded his visitors into the room where Abraham Botstein had met his gruesome end. "Is there anything else you will need for your, ah, investigation?"

"Oh no, Mister Ruiz. You've been very helpful." Anderson's grin was too wide. So was Yumie's.

"You don't have to worry about a thing!" She exclaimed with her eyes closed. "Whatever is going on in this room, we'll get to the bottom of it! The Vatican's top supernatural investigators are on the case!"

"That's right." Heinkel's effort at wacky enthusiasm was notably forced. "In the name of God, we will purge this place of evil spirits!"

The three of them struck a coordinated victory pose, falling to their knees dramatically while raising their arms straight up towards the ceiling. "AMEN!"

Ruiz stared, and coughed discreetly. "Ah... yes. All right then, please let me know if you need... anything else." He coughed his way out of the room, looking relieved.

Sometimes the truth was the best lie. Or in this case, a version of the truth that involved the Iscariots making asses of themselves and counting on the fact that most people would never believe the reality. As Heinkel had put it, "We Iscariots have already sacrificed Heaven to do God's work. After that, our dignity is just another piece of silver in our sinner's pockets."

Once Ruiz was gone, they immediately broke the pose and once again became the top agents of Vatican Section XII, grim and professional. Anderson loomed over the bed that the victim had been found butchered in. Its new white sheets couldn't hide the stain of what had happened there, not from Anderson. "It was a vampire, all right." He gritted his teeth. "I can practically still smell the bastard."

"One of the ones from Ireland?" Heinkel said while going through the room's drawers.

"No, I don't think so." Anderson's lip curled. "Those two would have torched the room for fun afterward. This must be bigger than we thought."

"The window is strong," Yumie said, looking out. "But the lock was replaced recently. And it's a straight drop from up here, with no handholds."

"So someone crawled up a vertical wall, forced their way into the room with inhuman strength, and tore a man apart," Heinkel said. "Vampire."

"Aye." Anderson didn't look away from the bed. "Another demon to be purged. This monster will probably lead us to the other two. The Valentines are strangers in this land. They must have allies that are hiding them... for now."

There was a knock at the door. Ruiz was calling to them. The Iscariots exchanged glances. Yumie checked the door lens, then cracked it open and poked her head out, all smiles.

"I'm sorry Mister Ruiz, but we're still communing with the Other Side! The souls of the departed are very sensitive right now, and we can't be interrupt-"

"There's no time! You're all in terrible danger!" The voice wasn't Ruiz's, and it was a loud one. Heinkel and Anderson both reached into their robes and tensed themselves. They could hear Ruiz apologizing, and the sound of feet running towards them.

The door burst open, bowling over Yumie. Standing in it was an apparition beyond the Iscariots' long and eldritch experience. With an eyepatch on his face, long red braid wrapped around his neck, cowboy hat on his head, some kind of plastic gun attached to a rubber tube slung across his shoulder, tube connected to a backpack with blinking lights, khaki vest, camouflage pants, combat boots, he was absurd. He was incredible. He was-

"Pip Bernadotte, Master Ghost Hunter!" His thick French accent added the icing to the cake of the surreal. He posed with his hands on his hips, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder at a considerably less-extraordinary figure with a camera. "With my trusty assistant and recorder, Gilles!"

Yumie sat up on the floor and pushed her glasses back up on her face. Anderson spoke for all three of them.

"What."

It was impossible for Pip to be as surprised to see them as they were to see him, but he managed to come close. "Hey! Mister Ruiz, when you told me this room was already occupied I wasn't expecting priests." He looked at Yumie, getting to her feet. "Or nuns, for that matter."

Ruiz poked his head over the shoulder that wasn't occupied by Gilles. His cough sounded embarrassed. "I'm sorry, sir. I tried to tell you. These people are already trying to deal with any... spirits left from the incident." He shrugged. "Perhaps you can work together?"

Pip laughed nervously and poked the brim of his hat with a finger. "Well, I don't know about that. I've always been a solo operator, you know. Taking on the supernatural all by myself while Gilles records my adventures for posterity! But I'll admit it's a lonely life." He spread his hands. "Maybe I'd be willing to-"

"No, it's too late for that." Anderson advanced on Pip, towering over him, baring his teeth. "We were just about to exorcise the demonic taint from this room when this _amateur_ interrupted us. But now that our rites have been let incomplete, who knows what horror the evil forces will unleash next?" He pointed a damning finger down at the master ghost hunter and boomed out damnation. "God will judge ye for the fruits of your sinful arrogance!"

"I think Father is enjoying his undercover role a bit too much," Yumie whispered to Heinkel.

"Hey, don't pull that on me!" Pip said. "They don't call me 'master ghost hunter' for nothing, you know. I was putting down evil spirits while you were still... uh..." He stared at the much older man. "Anyway, I know what I'm doing! I've got the best technology on my side, after all." He patted the plastic rifle he had. It looked like a modified water gun. "Hokey religions and ancient rituals are no match for a good proton gun at your side, you know."

"Your sacrilege only damns ye further!" Anderson snorted. "We'll not work with the likes of ye. Mister Ruiz, we will continue our sacred task later, after _these_ fools are gone. Perhaps we will be able to repair the damage they have done then." He turned to Heinkel and Yumie. "Come on, you two."

They shouldered their way past the ghost hunters and the hotel manager, walking down the hall. "Yeah? Well good riddance to you then!" Pip shouted after them before turning to the manager. "Don't worry Mister Ruiz, you'll be glad you put this problem in the hands of a trained professional."

As the Iscariots rounded a corner out of Ruiz's sight, Anderson looked at Yumie, his glasses flashing. "Sister," he said. "Perhaps you should stay behind to say a prayer for this cursed place. And for the souls of those deluded sinners."

Yumie bowed her head and spoke quietly like a shy, obedient little nun. "Of course, Father." She turned and silently walked the other way, head down, hands clasped, and eyes open. When she wanted to be, Yumie could be very good at hiding in plain sight.

She walked about the hotel for a few minutes, unnoticed by the staff and guests going by her, until she was sure that Ruiz would have left the 'ghost hunters' to their work. Then she went back to Botstein's room. She stood outside the door, head still bowed, and she prayed. And she listened. It wasn't easy to eavesdrop on a conversation from outside the room like this, but agents of Section XIII had a lot of practice at this kind of thing.

"It's not my fault! I mean, what are the odds? How was I supposed to know we wouldn't be the only idiots showing up here to hunt ghosts?"

"Look Captain, all I'm saying is that there are a lot of covers we could have used to get into this place that didn't involve dressing up like morons."

"Hey, I'm the one who's dressed up, aren't I? I'm taking one for the team!"

"Yeah, that's right. But I don't think you're taking one for the team. Matter of fact, I think this whole mission has been one big excuse for you to prance around pretending to have a ray gun."

She heard Pip laugh. "All right, I guess you got me. But give me a break, eh? I mean, what self-respecting mercenary doesn't want his very own proton gun?"

"Depends on whether it's real or made out of a kid's toy, Captain."

"Okay, okay. Gilles, I promise you: no more supernatural monster hunting for the Wild Geese, okay? Never again!"

"I'll hold you to that, Captain." There was the sound of drawers being opened and closed, the same ones Heinkel had been searching a few minutes ago. "I'm not finding anything here. Actually... it kinda looks like someone already went through this place, doesn't it?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. The bastards probably already swept the room to cover up their murder." Pip paused. "Hey, you don't think those priests weren't on the level, do you?"

"...Nah. I mean, what are the odds that another outfit came up with the same dumbass undercover idea _you _did?"

"Hey! That's insubordination!" Pip snapped, then immediately started chuckling. "Hey, but you're probably right. I'd hate to think that cute little nun was up to no good, you know?" His voice took on a lecherous edge. "Seems a shame for a girl like that to take a vow of chastity. Same for that girl priest that was with them."

"Hah! You never change, Captain. I think your eyepatch is giving you problems though. That priest was obviously a guy."

"What? Oh man Gilles, you are blind! It was definitely a woman dressed in a priest's robes. I'm French, I can tell these things."

"Hey, I'm French too you know!"

Hearing footsteps coming down the hall, Yumie decided that was her cue to leave.

* * *

"They are mercenaries from a group called the Wild Geese," Yumie told Heinkel and Anderson a few minutes later, after meeting up with them on the street. "They're idiots who are in over their heads. I think someone hired them to go after whoever killed Botstein. They have no idea what they're dealing with." She frowned, matching her comrades' expressions. "Also, I am thinking of castrating their Captain."

Anderson stopped frowning long enough to smile at a passing child. The little boy giggled at the towering priest, waved at him, then ran past. Anderson waved back, then resumed frowning once the boy was gone. His voice had a growl in it. "Godless killers for hire like that would do us all a favour getting slaughtered by vampires. Still, we can't have them blundering into things and making a mess."

He stopped walking. Heinkel and Yumie came up short behind him. "Actually... the way they're going, it sounds like they'll attract some unwanted attention soon enough." He looked up, and his glasses shone under the sun. "Perhaps we can use them as bait."

Heinkel smiled. "It wouldn't be hard to find out where they're staying. If the vampires go after them, that's probably where they'll strike. We just have to watch the prey, to catch the predator."

The other two nodded, filled with new purpose now that they had a plan to bring their targets into sight. By unspoken and unnecessary agreement, keeping the mercenaries alive would not be a large part of the plan. The Iscariots were very used to making those kinds of sacrifices.

* * *

Ruiz's cough preceded him like a wheezing herald. It announced his location for all to hear as he entered the alleyway behind his hotel. The alley was dark and narrow. Only a sliver of the night sky could be seen overhead, a bit of the moon and stars looking down on the meeting. At the end of the alley, the orange spark of Tubalcain Alhambra's cigarette glowed like the light at the end of a dark tunnel. For Ruiz, that was exactly what the Dandy was.

"My dear friend," the Dandy purred in an overdone parody of genuine concern. "Your lungs sound as though they are truly troubling you this night!"

"This- damned- cough- is going- to kill me." Ruiz could barely get the words out through the hacking coughs that bent him over. Alhambra made no move to help him. He leaned against the wall and grinned.

"Oh, don't be so sure, Rodrigo," he said. "I am absolutely certain your long illness will not kill you. In fact, I think your suffering is finally nearing its end, forever!" He raised a finger. "Depending on what you have for me this fine evening, that is."

"Thank god... thank God." Ruiz almost sobbed with relief. His desperation was pathetic. Alhambra was careful not to let him see his lip curl, hiding his expression beneath the shadowy brim of his hat.

"People came to visit Botstein's room today," the manager said. "They said they were ghost hunters! I pretended to be fooled, but I knew they really wanted to investigate the... what your people did." Ruiz swallowed. "The Church people you told me to watch out for... they were there! Two priests and a nun, matching your exact description." He paused to cough. It was an ugly sound, full of mucus and other fluids, wracking his body before he could continue.

"There were two others, too. A man calling himself Pip Bernadotte, with an eyepatch and a long red braid, and a cameraman." Ruiz fidgeted with his hands, unable to meet the Dandy's eyes. "He... may have actually been a ghost hunter. He acted foolish enough."

"Is that so?" Alhambra snickered softly to himself. _Such a stupid group of mercenaries, to think that they can come into __**my**__ country to meddle in our affairs and not be noticed! And such arrogance, Captain Bernadotte, to not even use an alias. Your men are going to pay a very high price for getting tangled up in our business, I'm afraid. _

Aloud, his voice was friendly and praising. "Well done, Rodrigo! Very good, very good." The second 'very' was long and drawn out like a purr. He beckoned with a finger. "Come here, my friend. It is time for you to receive your reward for your splendid service."

No hypnotism was needed for a creature like Ruiz. He came weak-kneed and willing. "You mean..."

"Oh, yes..." Alhambra stepped forward, took him by the shoulders and leaned in towards the manager's neck. "As I promised. You will not die from your cough."

Ruiz screamed as he felt inhumanly sharp teeth slice into his flesh. He screamed again and again as his blood flowed down Alhambra's greedy throat. But in the end, the Dandy was as good as his word. Even though he screamed many times during his last moments, not once were Rodgrigo Ruiz's cries interrupted by a cough.


	6. Eye of the Vampire

Luke Valentine descended down the steps that led to his destiny. If he still had a pulse, it would have been racing. The stones around him were old and cold and reeked of immense evil, but the shiver he suppressed was more from excitement than fear. He was ready, he knew it. His powers were at their peak. After all his training, all his planning, he was prepared. He would be the one to finally kill the great vampire Alucard.

Luke came to the foot of the stairs, deep beneath the Hellsing Mansion. He immediately felt the sheer _presence_ of this dungeon's inhabitant, and was aware that he stood before history. What he was about to do had been attempted before, by the Turks, by the original Hellsing, by all the enemies of the No-Life King throughout his ancient career. But Luke was different. Luke was going to _succeed._

He stood with his legs spread, his guns hanging down by his side, one in each hand. Specially-modified M1 Garand rifles, antique enough for class, unique enough to leave his own special mark. He spoke aloud into the darkness. "I've come a long way to meet you. Aren't you going to come welcome your guest?"

Low, mocking, echoing laughter was his only response. Luke strained to pinpoint its source with his advanced ears, but it sounded as though it was coming from all around him. He raised a rifle, forced his voice to stay cool. "I'm disappointed. Kings are supposed to have better manners than this."

"Manners are for men." The voice boomed all around him. Luke could almost feel its power, vibrating in his body. "Hospitality is for guests. Stray dogs just get put down."

"D-dog?" Luke gritted his teeth. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Luke had it all planned out in his head. He would bow and tell Alucard what an honour it was to meet him, share with him what an impact he had been on his life. They would exchange pleasantries like gentlemen, each of them full of respect for a worthy opponent. Perhaps Alucard would even praise Luke's skill and style. Then there would be a grand duel, and Luke Valentine would go down in history as the one to kill the greatest of all monsters.

More laughter, then booming gunfire. Luke recognized the sound of the Casull as he jumped into the air and somersaulted backwards away from the bullets. He'd been briefed on Alucard's weapon, the heavy automatic pistol with its blessed Macedonian silver rounds. He could tell where the shots were coming from, and opened fire with both rifles the moment he landed, blasting five silver bullets into the darkness.

_Why can't I see him?_ He thought. _My vampire eyes should be at home in the blackest of night! Why is this dungeon's darkness so different?_ Everything felt wrong- the echoes, the shadows, the unfeeling stones beneath his feet. Even the air whispered against his skin with a contemptuous feel. This was no grand arena. He felt like a rabbit in a bear's cave.

The next shot came from behind him, and Luke twisted aside just in time for the round to zip past him. _Impossible! He was on the other side of the room a second ago!_ He shot back, but was rewarded with nothing but a dark chuckle that seemed to come from above him. His head snapped upwards, expecting to see Alucard clinging to the ceiling and about to pounce, but there was nothing there. His nerve snapped.

"Show yourself!"

"Are you lost, little dog? Are you looking for the door yet?"

Luke growled at the suggestion of retreat. He backed away from the stairs he'd come down, advancing deeper into the dungeon with a gun pointed in each direction. He turned his head right and left, looking and sniffing. "I wouldn't have expected the great Alucard to be afraid to face me!"

"Afraid? Of a powerless weakling like you?" This time the laughter was louder. It boomed around him like bestial thunder. "You really don't get it. Someone like you is just too... _boring _to really fight_. _So I have to entertain myself by playing with my food."

Where the hell _was_ he? All Luke could see was darkness. All he could smell was death. "Boring?" His teeth ground against one another. "Come on out, and we'll really play!"

"If you insist."

This time, there was no doubt at all about where that voice was coming from. It was coming from directly behind him.

Luke screamed shrilly and turned around, bringing his guns up. White-gloved hands closed around his arms and pinned them to his sides. There was no question of struggle. Luke could only whimper as he looked at the man- at the thing- holding him. Even in the darkness of the dungeon, Alucard's coat was so crimson it almost glowed. His eyes were the same colour, and there was no 'almost' about their glow. They shone like hellfire as his hungry gaze bore into Luke. Below them, his grin also shone, a gleaming carnivorous Chesire cat smile hanging in the blackness. There was no humanity in the grin or the eyes. Nor was there mercy.

The hands tightened around his arms, squeezing and squeezing. Luke began to cry out in pain as well as fear. One of his fingers squeezed frantically at the trigger of his gun, blasting useless bullets into the floor.

"Guess what I just caught?" Somehow Alucard was still speaking even as his jaw was opening, wider and wider. Luke stared into that maw. It seemed as though his teeth went all the way down his throat.

"I just caught... a cute... little... DOG!" His voice boomed inside Luke's head and his hands cracked Luke's bones with a single twitch and his mouth leapt towards Luke's face and-

"Time out!" Schrodinger called. Alucard suddenly froze like a paused video, his teeth barely a centimetre away from Luke's eyes.

"You can't be serious." Zorin's voice came out of nowhere like the voice of God. In this place, that was what she was. "It's just getting to the good part!"

"Sorry, Zorin." Schrodinger did not sound sorry. "But Dok says there's no point in letting this go on. I think it's pretty clear how it's going to end by now, don't you?"

Luke made little squealing sounds and nodded his head. Alucard's hands were still crushing his bones, and the effort to keep himself from screaming was extreme.

Schrodinger appeared in his peripheral vision, looking disgustingly perky. "Sorry for interrupting your _glorious_ victory, Herr Valentine," he said. "Dok thinks you ought to see how your brother is doing."

"That... won't be a problem." Luke managed to speak through gritted teeth without letting his voice break too much from the pain.

Zorin's mind rumbled around them, and the 'dungeon' dissolved into nothingness, along with 'Alucard.' Luke sighed quietly as his illusionary injuries vanished. Nothing was left except blackness. "One of these days, brat, I am going to figure out how to keep you out of my damn mind," Zorin growled.

"You're going to be waiting a very long time, First Lieutenant." Schrodinger's voice took on an infuriating sing-song edge. "A mind like yours is like a kingdom of nightmares, a very real place. And I'm everywhere and nowhere, after all."

"You've said that before, you little runt!" Zorin snapped. "I was fed up with it during the sixties and I'm fed up with it now. Maybe I'll break into _your_ mind for a change sometime, little kitten. Maybe we'll see what cats are afraid of. What makes you piss yourself at night."

"I don't think your superiors would approve of that, don't you Zorin?" Luke could practically hear Schrodinger's smirk. "Hey look, it's Jan!"

A hallway on the second floor of the Hellsing mansion swam into existence around them. The grim eyes of the original Abraham Van Hellsing glared down from a portrait at Jan Valentine's bleeding body. He was huddled against a wall, and a very angry tall blond woman in a suit was hitting him with a sword many, many times. And yelling.

"You _dare_ to break into this ancient home, defile my estate with your presence, kill my guards, attack me and my guests, cast aspersions on my family honour with your filthy mouth, and track your footprints on my carpet?" Integra Hellsing was every bit as much the presence that Millennium's files on her would indicate.

"There isn't a pit in Hell deep enough or fiery enough for me to send you!" Jan appeared to be attempting to form a retort, but it just wasn't happening on account of his throat being shredded all over the opposite wall. Integra raised her sword high over her head. "In the name of God, impure souls of the living dead will be banished to eternal damnation. Amen!"

And that was the end of the Valentine Brothers' third assassination mission against the Hellsing Mansion.

* * *

"Now then, what did we learn today?" Schrodinger had a clipboard in hand when Zorin released them from the illusion and returned them to reality. The entire exercise had taken place in what Zorin called 'the pain room' and what everyone else in Millennium called 'the holodeck,' although never within Zorin's earshot unless they wanted to send her into a rage. It was large, it was plain, and it was sturdy, with steel and concrete walls built to withstand any mishaps that might result from Zorin's illusionary training exercises.

"That shit was _fucked,_ okay?" Jan yelled as he got up from the floor. "There's no way that bitch is that hardcore! She's just a stuck-up rich slut who inherited her Dad's job!"

"That's what _I_ keep saying," Zorin said, leaning on her scythe. "But the Major's convinced she's a fucking Valkyrie or something, so I just have to give him what he wants."

"I have a question," Luke said. He wanted to avoid the topic of Alucard tearing him apart yet again before Jan or Zorin could get on it. "I thought that Hellsing was supposed to have a butler. A former field agent, their most trusted servant. How come he never shows up in these scenarios? He could be a major factor."

"Please do not concern yourself with that one, Herr Valentine." Luke jumped a little at the sound of the Major's voice behind him. The maniac's words were unpleasant to hear at the best of times, an endless stream of high-pitched nasal madness, and right now he sounded especially amused. "He is no one for you to pay any attention to whatsoever."

Turning, Luke saw the Major and the Doktor standing in the doorway to the 'holodeck.' Dok was frowning, which was a bad sign, and the Major was grinning, which was a much worse sign. "Warrant Officer Schrodinger, First Lieutenant Blitz. How are our fine pupils faring with today's lessons? What has been learned?"

Zorin straightened up and put her scythe on her shoulders, but didn't salute. "We learned they're useless idiots." She smiled. "So, nothing new. I could do a better job of wrecking that fucking mansion myself."

"Sorry, Major! But it's another failing grade." Schrodinger wrote something on his clipboard, then turned it around and held it up. In red marker it read: "LUKE: F. JAN: F-"

"Hey!" Jan was not pleased. "C'mon, Luke totally got his ass kicked worse than me."

"Sorry Jan, but the grading scheme is quite clear." Schro held up his hands and closed his eyes. "There's far less shame in falling to the mighty Alucard than there is in being defeated by a 'stuck up rich slut.'"

"It's simply no good, you boys," the Major said. Beside him, Dok stayed silent and let his boss do the talking, but his multi-lensed glasses were definitely glaring at the Valentines. "Dunce students will never graduate. The organization requires soldiers for this mission, not failures. These auditions will not last forever, you know. We expect results." He turned around, Dok right behind him. "Come with us. You are about to receive a bit of added motivation."

Luke was nervous as they walked down the hall behind the Millennium officers, and not just because he had just experienced Alucard making prey of him. "Tell me, is that the mission?" He asked. "Attacking the Hellsing Mansion, I mean. Is that the job we're auditioning for? Or is it just a scenario you-"

"Silence! No further questions," Dok snapped. "That information is classified. And you should be paying more attention to what you are about to see." His tone was one that would tolerate no argument.

They entered a room on the left-hand side, the door open and flanked by Nazi guards who saluted smartly as their Sturmbahnfuhrer passed. Within was a large electronic screen, a control panel, and a few seats. Henderson and Sangfreud were already there, with Henderson standing near a wall.

It was a small, sparse affair, and Luke wondered why Dok seemed as tense as he did as he began fiddling with the controls. The Major sat down and crossed his legs, but everyone else remained standing, and Luke followed their lead. Jan found himself a wall to lean against.

The screen blurred with static for a moment, then showed a moving image of a forest. Luke wondered for a moment why the view was so shaky and blurred, before realizing that whoever had the camera was running very fast. He could hear soft panting, light footfalls, rustling vegetation. It was dark, with barely enough moonlight to see by. Someone was running. Beside Luke, Dok was taking out a large, sophisticated remote.

"Meet Jose Guerro, my friends. He accepted the gift of immortality from us some time ago. When he did, it was with the understanding that his life would become ours, dedicated to our service," the Major said. "We would reward him when he served well, and punish him when he served poorly." The Doktor had his finger on a large red button on the remote.

"He was asked to perform a very simple but important task, dealing with someone who could inconvenience the entire organization. He performed it poorly, and messed up a perfectly fine hotel room in the process. Now as was promised he will be punished." The Major raised a hand. "Doktor, execute."

Dok pushed the button. Luke began to hear screams from the screen. The running stopped, but the view stayed jerky and quivering. They could hear gasps. Luke understood now that there was no camera, just the data being fed through the FREAK chip inside Jose via his own eyes. The shaking they were seeing was not that of the screen, but of the doomed and terrified flesh the chip was embedded in. The view was obscured first by smoke, then by blue flame. Jose screamed and screamed. The screen became hissing static. There was one final scream, and then the audio cut out as well.

Dok lowered the remote. "The subject has been terminated, Major."

The Major swivelled in his chair to look at the audition's participants. "Is the point taken, my friends? Perform or be punished. It is that simple."

Sangfreud showed no visible reaction. The other three were less stoic. Luke was gritting his teeth, Henderson's mouth was open, and Jan was grinning.

The Major seemed pleased. He waved them away. "Very well then. This concludes the lesson. Off you go, trainees. You still have a lot of work to do."

* * *

The next few days and nights passed for the Valentines in a flurry of hellish experiences. The tests and training kept interchanging, one after another, with only the briefest of pauses for anything other than the audition. The Doktor was always first in line.

His 'studies' took place in a dark, paper-strewn lab that seemed positively enthusiastic in its blatant flaunting of every safety and hygiene guideline known to medical science. There was blood on the walls, blood on the furniture, and blood on the torn and dirtied papers, and from what Luke could make out the papers themselves were from medical articles about blood. The only things that were clean were the exotic array of unsettlingly gleaming instruments Dok busied himself with.

Luke watched him, humming softly as he puttered over his rows of scalpels and speculums. Luke was seated on a cold metal bench with his shirt off, feeling like a child again. On the other side of the room, Jan was in his underwear. He was running flat-out on an ugly rattling steel treadmill that looked like it had come out of a 1940s munitions factory, surrounded by beeping screens and monitoring equipment, suction cups and wires trailing from his body. The machine was moving so fast that Jan's legs were a stumbling blur as he tried to stay on it.

"Doktor, is this really necessary?" Luke wanted a cigarette, but the Doktor had made it very clear that flame was not permitted in the laboratory. Considering how many flammable gases and liquids were lying about, this was probably for the best. "You already have all our vital information from the chips."

"Yeah, that's a good question!" Jan managed to yell as he barely kept up with the treadmill. "You already got the crazy science shit in our heads, why do you-"

"Silence!" The Doktor snapped, and turned away from his tools with his remote in hand. "Schnell! Schnell!"

He pressed a button, and Jan yelped as the treadmill somehow managed to actually go faster, shaking and rumbling as though it was about to fly apart. Then he turned to Luke, and pulled a rubber glove onto his hand, stretching it _very_ far up his wrist before letting it snap into place. "Herr Valentine, prepare for your physical."

"Sucks to be you, Luke!" Jan somehow found time to mock him even as he slipped and stumbled on the treadmill.

"Your own exam will follow immediately after your exercise, Jan." Dok did not turn to look at him. His gleaming multi-lensed eyepieces remained fixed on Luke. "It will be most thorough."

"Fuck me sidew-" There was one last slip as Jan's feet left the treadmill along with the rest of his body, hurling him across the room and into a wall.

* * *

"I'm assuming this lesson isn't going to be a lecture," Luke said dryly as he faced the Captain.

The Captain made no motion of reply, his expression unreadable behind his coat's high collar. He stood straight and stiff in the middle of the scarred, cracked 'fight ring' in the base's exercise facility. The room and its equipment had been built to service the physical activity needs of a thousand sociopathic superhumans obsessed with combat, and it showed in every dented inch of its walls, floors, and even ceiling. The ring was a case in point: its 'ropes' were high-strength steel cables. Slowly, the Captain's hands curled into fists at his sides. Luke fancied he could hear knuckles cracking.

"I think he wants to rumble, Luke!" Jan laughed and leapt into the ring, elbowing Luke aside. "One side, bro. If anybody's gonna throw down with this mute motherfucker it's gonna be me!"

"Oh, you can't be serious." Luke covered his face in a hand, but moved aside as Jan advanced on the Captain.

"You ready to get fucked big guy?" Jan cracked his knuckles, grinning wide. "I'm gonna rearrange your fucking face."

The Captain punched him. Jan tumbled through the air until he reached the cables. They caught him, stretched under his momentum, then bounced him back into the middle of the ring. He landed on his hands and knees, gasping at the Captain's feet.

"What... what... what the fuck do they feed you, man?" Jan actually managed to laugh even as his cheekbone began putting itself back together. He lunged back at the Captain and started swinging. His fists made a noise like drumming on wood as they beat in a blur against the Captain's torso. The Captain stared for a second, then kicked him in the chest.

Jan hit the cables again. This time they slung him straight into the floor, where he skipped and rolled a few feet past the Captain. The Captain watched him go by.

Jan took a few seconds getting back up. He was panting. "Holy fuck! Luke, this guy's like the fucking Terminator or some shit! Did you see that?"

"I saw. One of these days you really ought to think these things through." Luke looked at his brother, than at the Captain. "Is the point of this exercise to actually teach us something about hand-to-hand? Or just to smack us around?"

This time the Captain did answer. He answered by pointing at Luke and beckoning him forward.

"Me? But... I..."

Jan dusted himself off, walked over, and clapped his brother on the back. "Have fun dude!"

* * *

"This is marksmanship testing." Rip van Winkle braced her musket across her shoulders and cracked her neck. "You can impress me with your shooting, or you can be targets yourselves." She doubtfully eyed the Valentines over her spectacles. "I really don't care either way. Are you ready to begin?"

Luke couldn't tell whether she was bored or enjoying herself. He rather hoped it was the second. Lieutenant van Winkle was wearing a dark blue suit instead of a uniform, and her impossibly-long black hair glinted under the moonlight. It was relatively early in the evening, and Luke could see the little freckles on her pale skin.

The outdoor range was mundane by Jaburo standards. There were targets, there were firing positions, and there were weapons with which to destroy the targets. The main deviation from what human soldiers would have practiced on was the extraordinary ranges and angles the targets were set at: impossible for a human, a challenge for a vampire.

"I'm ready." Luke stepped up with an antique Kar98k bolt-action rifle held in front of him, barrel pointing upward. Naturally, Millennium had an ample stockpile of World War Two-era firearms, and Luke had a feeling his hosts would appreciate someone who proved skillful with _their_ weaponry. Especially van Winkle, with that musket looking like it was from the nineteenth century or earlier.

He brought the rifle to his shoulder and began to fire, shots cracking in the night air. Luke emptied the rifle's clip in a neat, efficient manner, firing, racking the bolt, aiming, firing again. Holes appeared in targets far away. The silhouette of a Hellsing soldier gained a third eye in its forehead. A cardboard child disintegrated. Luke noted that Milennium targeting procedures didn't exactly distinguish between soldiers and noncombatants.

Five shots, four hits. Luke tried to get fancy with the last one. He angled the shot upward so that it would arc down and strike the shadow of the farthest target, so far off that even a vampire's sight could make out no details except its wide-brimmed hat. He could just barely see the puff of dirt from the bullet missing. Cursing on the inside, he turned to face van Winkle with a stoic face and the rifle presented in front of him.

His reward was insincere applause. "Oh, congratulations!" The Lieutenant had her musket across her elbows, leaving her gloved hands free for slow clapping. "You only managed to waste twenty percent of our classic bullets that no one is making anymore. Well done!"

Luke gritted his teeth and tried to keep his mouth shut. Rip turned to Jan. "What about you, _jongen?_ Think you can do better than your brother?" Her mouth had a way of getting unnaturally large when she wanted to show off her teeth, which seemed to be often. "Somehow I doubt it."

"Hey, it's apples and oranges, Rip." Jan shrugged. "There's no comparison, y'know? Luke's all fancy and perfectionist and crap. Me, I've got my own style for shooting shit up: quantity over quality!" He hefted his weapons up off the ground. Rip's grin vanished. She began to ask what maniac had let Jan get two heavy machine guns, but was immediately drowned out.

"KONAMI CODE MOTHERFUCKERS!" The weapons blazed in his hands, firing so quickly it sounded more like ripping fabric than anything like individual gunshots. "UP UP!" A row of farther targets were obscured in flying dirt and disintegrating wood.

"DOWN DOWN!" The barrage of bullets drew in, subjecting the nearer targets to the same treatment. Spent cartridges rolled at Jan's feet.

"LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT!" Jan fanned out the stream of fire, spreading his arms to strafe targets on either side of him, walking the bullets back and forth, oblivious to the punishing recoil of the heavy weaponry he was firing one-handed. Finally the MG42s clicked dry. Steam rose from overheated barrels, mixing with the smoke from their barrels.

Jan flung the guns aside and grinned at Rip, posing with hands on hips. "That's how we do it _Nintendo_ style, bitch!"

Any calculation of Jan's accuracy percentage would have involved a decimal point and a great many zeroes, but every single target on the range had at least one bullet in it or had been utterly destroyed. Every target, except the far one Luke had missed. The one with the wide hat.

Rip's mouth was open. For the moment at least, she was speechless.

* * *

"Hello, Valentines! I'm still waiting for you!" Schrodinger's voice seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere. Luke looked around and around, and saw only dark jungle around him and Jan. "I didn't think you were going to take _this_ long."

This challenge was simple. All they had to do was catch Schrodinger. The catboy had made a children's game out of it, making them close their eyes and count to twenty, right down to yelling 'ready or not, here we come.' That had been almost an hour ago, and both Valentines were getting fairly fed up. Not only was Schrodinger eluding them despite constantly taunting them, but Luke wasn't sure he knew how to get back to the base even when they did find the kid. _That's all we need, _he thought. _Getting lost in the jungle until the sun rises and fries us._

"Yo, bro, how long are we gonna put up with this bullshit?" Jan said, kicking his way through the ferns. "I'm going to get poison ivy or some shit if we keep stomping around all these weird plants. I mean, _fuck._ We really gonna do this all night, or what?"

"Jan, have you considered that the reason we can't find the brat is because you won't shut your mouth?" Luke wasn't looking at him, rubbing at a green stain on his white sleeve. Wearing the white suit into the jungle might not have been a good idea, he had to admit. It certainly stood out among all the foliage. But Luke always insisted on looking his best, especially when he was trying to impress someone.

"Oh sure, blame me for everything. Hey, here's another idea: maybe we can't sneak up on this fucking kid because he can smell the pussy on you! He keeps getting away from us because he smells you coming, man. It's all the perfume and hairspray you're wearing, blowing our position."

"I'm not wearing perfume, you idiot." Luke gave up on the stain. There were many more like it around his pants. "And I don't think the Warrant Officer even has an advanced sense of smell. He's not an actual cat, he just has ears." He didn't like thinking about what kind of freakish science had led to that creature's creation, or what the Nazis had been thinking adding a quantum catboy to their invincible army of darkness.

"Hold on, I'll check." Jan raised his hands to his mouth and bellowed into the jungle. "YO, SCHRODINGER! GOT A QUESTION FOR YOU! CAN YOU SMELL LUKE'S PUSSY-ASS HAIRSPRAY?"

Childish laughter from the shadows was the only response. Luke groaned. Then he had an idea.

"Jan. Keep yelling."

"What, now you don't want me to shut up? You're the one always telling me-" Jan broke off as Luke bounded upward, jumping in between tree trunks until he was at canopy level. "Ohhh. Heh, okay, I got you bro."

Perched on top of a branch, Luke made his way between leaves and sticks as quietly as he could. Below, Jan continued to do what he did. "LUKE DOESN'T THINK HIS FUCKING PERFUME IS GIVING US AWAY! IS HE FULL OF SHIT OR WHAT? HELP ME OUT HERE, SCHRO!"

Luke listened. He knew Schrodinger wouldn't be able to resist this bait. The response came immediately, and this time Luke could tell where it was coming from. _He's behind Jan. About a hundred metres._

"It's hard to tell, Herr Valentine!" The brat was obviously having a grand time. "There's so much you two are doing wrong right now. I just don't think I can narrow it down!" Luke delicately hopped from tree to tree, making sure his weight barely disturbed the branches, making his way closer. "I'll be honest with you two. I didn't think you were going to fail so badly. I'm so disappointed."

There. Looking straight down, Luke could catch a glimpse of blond hair and furry ears on a lower branch, directly below him. Schrodinger was sitting in the same tree, apparently oblivious. Luke readied himself. "Of course, the Major is going to be even more disappointed when I tell him about-"

Luke dropped. Branches broke and cracked as he fell feet-first. Schrodinger looked upward at the noise, then yowled as Luke landed on him. The branch they were on broke, and they fell the rest of the way down to the rain forest floor, both yelling.

When they landed, Schrodinger was caught firmly in Luke's grip.

A/N: I apologize for how long this story has been inactive, and am grateful to the readers who've still supported it despite its long neglect!


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